Hatred By Hideous Presumption
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: Zarbon and Dodoria meet and decide that they hate each other, but to what extent?
1. The Reptillian Tale

**This story is also pushing my boundaries. I must warn that it does reference homosexuality, though I will add that there is nothing, and never will be anything, going on between Frieza, Dodoria, and Zarbon. They just all happen to be key characters. I'd like to add that this will probably be three chapters, though it may just be two depending on how I see fitting. Anyways, enjoy!**

The regal throne room of Frieza Planet 79 was freezing at best. There seemed to be an eternal draft flowing in from the few windows lining the high walls, nipping at the hollow cheeks of the thin reptile sitting to Frieza's right, albeit at a lower level. He shuddered slightly as he allowed a manicured hand to trail slowly over the green braid hanging over his shoulder, and he dipped his head down to give it an involuntary shake. His skin in this state was not thick enough to protect him from this cold, but he resisted the urge to transform into his far more hideous state, as well suited for such icy conditions as it was.

Instead, he gave a shudder small enough to hide from his master's omniscient gaze, focusing on keeping warm. He ignored the lavish draperies and tapestries of the finest silks across the galaxy that flowed downwards from the high ceiling. His posture suffered slightly as he bent over, placing a hand over the flawless, blue skin of his face. And in that position, he gave an uncomfortable grimace as he found solace in the tiny warmth the palm of his hand seemed to provide.

He was arched over the rocky podium as he shook his head once more, wondering just how long he had been there. He refrained his eyes from roving over the stony walls of the chamber for the hundredth time that day. Or evening. Or night. Even as meticulous as he was in keeping his facts straight, he had lost count of the number of hours he must have been seated there, feigning his pleasure during these countless court sessions. It was certainly work, he realized, to keep himself from curling his lip with his disgust of all of the creatures that had ambled through the courtroom that day.

Zarbon shut his eyes for the first time that day, save for the occasional blinking that even reptiles were forced to ease their vision with. There was finally a break in the line of foreign peoples, for the most part too hideous for the lizard to bear watching. And yet he didn't dare voice this disgust, as he knew how to keep himself alive in the Planet Trade Organization. After only eight years of service, he had managed to build himself up this far, and he certainly didn't want to fall back lower than he had even started. And seeing all of these people, it couldn't help but churn his innards. This was what he had been less than a decade prior - only a prisoner.

But it was simple enough for this lowly prisoner to build himself up, he noted as he managed a nasty smirk on his features, not even caring if Frieza noted it or not. No, building himself up in the army had been simple enough as soon as he figured out a little trick that he unknowingly possessed. He had simply exploited a gaping hole in the whole empire, and that was the matter of sexuality. There were almost no females in the entire infantry as they were considerably weaker than their male counterparts, thus leaving an instability amongst the predominate male population. So once he had possessed a low-standing rank in the army, as most prisoners of war were drafted if deemed fit enough, it had only been a matter of buttering up to the highest ranking officer he came in contact with in daily life. And with his effeminate features, it hadn't been terribly difficult to persuade him to partake in some rather illicit activities after the lights had been extinguished.

He climbed through the army in such a way, and in the beginning, he had managed to blackmail by threatening to expose this little secret with all of those holding secrets. It wasn't as large a threat to himself as it was to them, as he always chose officers amongst the highest ranks who would likely receive a far more dastardly punishment for such a crime. But after a while, once he had made his way far enough through the ranks, he realized that it would only be detrimental to his standing to leave those officers unattended to. And thus, he had been forced to take measures of precaution to assure that none of the men ran off and exposed him for these nighttime jobs. He would let them go, let them reorient themselves after a night they could hardly remember, and then see whether or not they could help to move him up or not. But regardless of success or not, these high-standing officers would always be found in their beds a week later with their throats slit.

Of course, he had eventually been ratted out. There had been too many men, too many deaths, to go unnoticed. He was assured that it wasn't one of his victims, seeing as he kept close tabs on them before their deaths, and so he supposed a bystander must have witnessed something strange and decided that Zarbon had to have been connected to all of these deaths. But it was one morning that, after waking up, he had found himself ambushed by a few lower soldiers, though enough to be able to hold even a man of his strength without transforming. He didn't fight for very long, however, as he knew that a punishment was inevitable. If Frieza had already found out about his exploitation of others' weaknesses, he would have no chance of survival. So, as he had trained himself to think throughout his life, the next best option would be to use his charisma to get out of this situation.

He had been thrown into a throne room, much like the one he was sitting in at the moment, except for that one had been on the space station. Zarbon found it difficult to subdue a bite of laughter at this fortuitous memory, but Frieza didn't seem to care, as worried in his own impatience as the alien was. And so Zarbon simply straighten back up in his seat, gave a small cough to distract from the chuckle, and allowed himself to delve into this particular memory. It was certainly a life-altering one, if anything.

_He had been thrown before Frieza, forced to kneel before his master. He had never been granted the alien's attention in the five years of service he held at the time, and so at that moment, there was a certain fear that enveloped him. He held one hand underneath his chest as he swept himself into the most graceful bow he had ever mustered, let alone with two guards flanking him. But when he looked up into those beady, black eyes, one hidden behind a green scouter, he noticed they only contained a cruel indifference at the time. He could feel execution coming. The sentence was only waiting on those shriveled, purple lips as his Highness stared down at him from his perch, seated behind a pedestal much like that of a judge._

_Zarbon pursed his lips and locked the steamy breath in his mouth, hot from the anxiety of just awaiting his own sentence. He never lost eye contact with his superior, and the two went on staring for nearly half a minute. And it was finally, finally, when he had almost had enough of this, that he saw the edges of those dry lips curve. Zarbon's heart immediately leapt with anticipation, and surely enough, a bout of laughter, slow as that of a starting fire but with the same crackle to its edge, filled the whole hall. The blue reptile managed to keep his expression straight, resisting the urge to stroke his green braid to relieve his anxiety, as Frieza incredulously asked, "This man took down half of my officers?" The dry laugh continued, becoming more amused as he repeated, "This man, with a power level of probably six-thousand at best, managed to kill my best men?"_

_But as abruptly as the laughter had started, it ended. Frieza furrowed his forehead and leaned back slightly, his pink tail wiggling behind him as he regarded the poor captain with his steady gaze. After only a few seconds, however, he snapped with all amusement drained out of his tone, "Kill him. He's not even worth my time."_

_And with these simple words, Frieza stood up to gain a better view as the guards came forth, quickly grabbing Zarbon around his arms. Zarbon immediately bared his white teeth, the canines glinting with saliva. And with only a few seconds to consider his options as they began dragging the helpless man away, he realized that he was desperate enough to sacrifice what had easily become the most important thing to sustaining his existence._

_His looks._

_He contracted the muscles in his arms, digging the heel of his boot into the ground to help create more friction and thus drag out the time between then and his impending execution. But what seemed to be slowing down the guards even more so was not this technique of slowing them down, but rather a shock as they felt his arms dilate underneath their gloved hands. A few were so surprised that they let go altogether, giving him just the right amount of time to complete his transformation. And the rest let go as soon as they noticed a hideous disfiguring of his face as it seemed to droop, his cheeks bulging on the sides of a flabby neck now. His nose had become so broad and flat that it could hardly be considered existant, and his forehead had come together in a bulky fashion._

_It was not simply his head to lose its definition, but also his body as a whole. Frieza's lips parted in awe as he peered over the scouter attached to his forehead, his tail curving around his legs as he leaned in closer with his interest piqued. Zarbon's chest seemed to have become twice as wide and three times as thick, his arms and legs also gaining considerable mass. And as he knocked the guards away with a certain insanity, losing the coolness of his previous form along with the beauty. He snarled and grunted and flailed his thick arms about, swinging towards anybody still remotely conscious._

_When he was finished with this quick tantrum, he turned towards Frieza, who was now levitating just off the ground to gain the best view possible at this high elevation. Zarbon cocked his head upwards, seething through gritted teeth as Frieza took note of every wart, every crease in his flawless skin. And with a heaving chest, he dared to grunt furiously, "I will not go down so easily!"_

_He watched through leering eyes as Frieza folded his arms and drifted down coolly, his tail still wrapped about his legs as he descended to the reptile's height. Standing a little ways away and proving himself to be almost half as tall as the beast before him, even with his posture suffering under the additional weight, Frieza tapped a finger to his scouter and murmured, "Seventeen-thousand. Not bad... not bad at all." There was a small smirk on his cruel lips as he offered, "You can work for me, or if you'd prefer, we can get you out of here as quickly as possible."_

_The giant reptile gulped nervously, his neck jiggling slightly with this decision. To work under the leader of the universe or to die? It shouldn't have been as difficult a decision as it was, but there was something in Frieza's appraising gaze that he simply couldn't trust. His heartbeat died quickly as the two stared at one another, two hideous freaks that knew the other could be of use. And so, with only the slightest reluctance betraying him in his voice, Zarbon nodded and agreed, "I'll work for you."_

_His voice was cool and resigned, as though he dealt with powerful leaders such as this every other morning. And his confidence was only boosted as he resumed his original form again, snapping right back into shape. Frieza watched, revealing only a sliver of how impressed he really was, as he said, "You know, you really shouldn't be ashamed of your second form, though I suppose a man of your history lives by looks alone. It's a shame, really - I mean, you should see just how fiersome I become in my second form, yet I don't have to go around, parading my self-worth." Zarbon blinked a few times, uncertain of what to say as his former-adversary continued, "Of course, I don't have to go around parading my self-worth to be noticed. There's just something that puts me above the rest, wouldn't you say?"_

_Automatically, Zarbon replied, "Of course, Lord Frieza." And so was the beginning of this new job as he followed Frieza out of the throne room, excused of all former crimes._

The memory filled Zarbon with a certain dread, seeing as he had been forced to transform into his hideous, beast-like form. But that sacrifice had been worth every wart, seeing as it was what came of this encounter that helped him to get to this point. Instead of climbing senselessly through the ranks with no specific goal in mind, he was now sitting rather idley next to this beast who had once ordered for his death. This high chair ensured something that was quite a relief to him, and that was that never once had his crimes - the murders, the sexual assaults, the betrayals - been mentioned since he had been picked up by his Highness. And since then, he had found himself adorned in high-class jewelry across the galaxies, collecting them while fulfilling more personal tasks for his Lordship. But they weren't merely to accentuate his feminine form, as he had no need for such a ploy while under Frieza's protective wing that shielded him from other's insults.

In all honesty, Zarbon couldn't be certain of his sexuality anymore. He knew that he had once loved women back on the planet he had been taken from, but eight years was a long time. Now the only women he ever saw were that of the newest segment to Frieza's regime, which were the Saiyans, but even they were distasteful to him. He had never fallen in love with any of them, though that didn't prove a thing. He had never fallen in love with any of his victims either, but there was still something satisfying about every act he had ever committed, and he wondered if this was simply to fill a void within his chest.

As for Frieza, he noted as he glanced up at the disgruntled creature seated behind his own podium, awaiting the next prisoner to come in, he had never been able to figure out exactly why the ruler had been so lenient with him when he didn't give a second thought to destroying entire civilization. At first he had supposed that Frieza might have wanted him as a toy of sorts, to mess with and to tease after that encounter, and possibly to gain something from. But time elapsed without a hint to anything of this kind at all, and Zarbon began to form a more begrudging respect for him. His shriveled body may have been disgusting to look at, but there was something more to him that one couldn't help but respect.

Of course, Zarbon wished he could say the same for all things as he watched the grandiose doors on the other side of the throne room creak open, revealing two guards behind something rather plump and pink and overall revolting. He wrinkled his nose as a display of disgust, finally catching Frieza's eye and forcing his Lordship to mutter under his breath, "Terrible, isn't it?"

Zarbon could only shiver as the doors had let in another bout of cold air, though he finally did nod slightly to concur. Then, as he subconsciously began pulling at the arm warmers he had requested a few years prior for instances such as these, he forced his gaze back upon the large pink blob. Spikes were scattered haphazardly over its rubbery skin that glinted even in this light as it kneeled down on the floor before the throne, its hands shackled behind its pudgy back. Frieza resettled himself in his seat with interest, having never met anything quite as horrifying as this monster with its purple lips covered in flecks of dead skin and its bulging eye sockets with small, rounded eyeballs.

"Your name?" Frieza asked curiously after observing the thing on the floor far below him. It growled slightly, granting a laugh from Frieza as two of his henchmen pressed guns to its back. After a few seconds with the guards pushing their weapons further into the bouncy, pink body, it finally looked up to its captor and spat.

"General Dodoria."


	2. Fruit Bursting with Pride

**Okay, just one more chapter after this one. Enjoy!**

"General?" Frieza spluttered, a twisted grin on his face as he leaned further over the podium to gain a better look at the pink thing on the floor. _"General?"_

It was hard for him to believe that anything quite as rotund as this thing before him could be brought to the ranks of general, as its pudge was all but worthy of respect. And the pink ball, this Dodoria, continued kneeling before him as though to hide a sneer upon its nasty features. It closed its eyes in an effort to ignore the tyrannical laughter as guns were prodded further into its backside, realizing even with its dim wits that this was not a situation in which force would make much headway.

Zarbon couldn't bring himself to laugh at the thing on the floor, as repulsed by it as he was. He turned his nose slightly to the air as Frieza stood up now and asked with an incredulous chuckle lurking in his words, "What are you, a male or a female? You're so atrocious that it's hard to tell!"

And after this question, he burst out laughing as though he had just realized how ridiculous this thing before him looked. And that thing quickly grunted in a scratchy voice, "Male," revealing his gender rather begrudgingly. He didn't understand exactly what was so hard to tell about his own gender when the peacock seated by the monster's side appeared more effeminate than he did, but as either side would say, that point could be disputed.

Frieza's brow raised with interest for the first time during this rather dull court session, having already tended to dozens of leaders of far-off planets. He detested landing his space ship as he knew that every time he did, he would be forced to listen to the appeals of the mass of prisoners deemed worthy enough of his attention. He didn't have a quick enough temper to often raise his finger, warning of a coming Death Beam, but his boredom had been so terrible during this court session that he hadn't possessed the will to restrain himself.

There had been a few rolls of the eyes on Zarbon's part when he believed his master wasn't looking in his general direction, but he allowed the man's silent criticisms to slip. He didn't care about whether his first man agreed with his methods or not - all he cared about was easing his boredom, even at the lives of these so-called innocents. Surely, this would all pass by more quickly if his servants didn't have to take a few minutes between sessions to clean the new pile of soot where a commander of one race or a captain of another had stood before, but disintegrating these pathetic fools made this task at least that much more enjoyable.

It seemed as though a cure to this perpetual ennui had arrived. This thing, this male, fascinated him. He had plump lips like that of a woman, but the saturation of his pink skin was not so much as to blind Frieza of the more masculine traits this thing carried. He was stocky, certainly, but there was a certain way that he held himself, even with that shape, that helped to define what may or may not have been muscles in those thick arms. From the angle he was kneeling, with his face towards the ground, Frieza had difficulty observing the hideous face he had only caught glimpses of. And so he immediately demanded, "Stand up."

The raspy voice was enough to force Dodoria back up to his feet with a surprising finesse. Frieza gave a small gasp, now gaining a better view of this creature's revolting features. His fat cheeks seeming to purse those lips even more tightly as his tiny, bulging eyes dared to roam over the throne room's stark walls for the first time. Zarbon recoiled immediately after daring to sneak a peek at this creature, and he couldn't help but regret having wanted something to liven up this boring court session.

Dodoria was not particularly alert, but he was keen enough to pick up the reactions of the two sitting far above him. He didn't mind the interest with which Frieza, conqueror of worlds, was giving him, and it almost filled him with a twisted pride to realize that he was beyond what the creature had ever seen. In fact, that little reassurance could really be an asset; if Frieza had never known of his race's existence, it might help in catching the ruler off-guard with his reserve of strength.

What did bother the pink warrior was the expression on the other's face, the one that was sitting to his Terrorship's left. Zarbon, he knew. This one, gifted naturally with a graceful beauty, couldn't find it in himself to see Dodoria as more than just the scabby ball with flaking skin he was. His curled upper lip was so pronounced that it went to disfigure his own facial features, and he continually pulled at one of his earrings as though to distract himself from the beast's presence.

Dodoria gritted his jagged teeth and clenched his hammy fists into balls without realizing this subconscious act of defense, but the supercilious look on such a superficial face seemed to release a pent-up anger from within. He could imagine grabbing his delicate face between his own sausage fingers and squeezing it in so slowly, forcing the peacock to look him in the eyes until his jaw shattered.

He was snapped out of his thoughts of pummeling in the peacock's face when Frieza's voice called out, a trace of fascination in it, "So, tell me, General. Do all of your people look like you? _Hrmm?_ Are they all just as..._ hideous?"_

Frieza's gaze was unrelenting as he finally adjusted his eyes to the sore sight, allowing them to dart all over the plump face. Dodoria didn't bring himself to answer, though, as he snarled, those purple lips thinning as they stretched around his rotting teeth. He couldn't look at Frieza, let alone respond to his insulting question, as he simmered in his hatred towards Zarbon. He dared another glance up towards the peacock to his left and then allowed his eyes to fall to the metallic floor.

How terribly easy it was for a life to be changed in only an instant. He shut those swollen eyes of his and shook his head, absorbed in his own memory of what had happened two weeks earlier to bring him to such a horrid place.

_Duranne was a small, green planet that drifted towards the edge of the southern galaxy, circling at a sluggish rate around a dying, red sun. It was tiny in comparison, as it only held a thousand life forms, if even that many, on its rocky surface. The air was thick, though - so thick that it almost seemed possible to choke on its rich contents. But it was air all the same, and so there was no effective barrier shielding the planet from outside invaders._

_Dodoria was the top of the army's elite, but never had he seen invaders. His civilization was not intellectually advanced enough to have spacecraft of their own, and so they had little contact with outsiders save for a few trade vessels that stopped there on occasion. And so even Dodoria, General of Duranne, had not expected an impressive fleet to ships to descend upon his homeland's plains. There were cries and screams of terror, and Dodoria, who had been seated at a table and gorging himself on sweet fruit at the time, could only turn his head towards the humble palace's windows with sticky juice running along the sides of his mouth. With a quick wipe of his arm across his face, he quickly stood up, signaling for the soldiers eating with him to stand, too. They abandoned the shriveled elder sitting in his own baggy, pink flesh, his old age leaving him to mouth words of caution in air as though he was the one giving orders._

_He grabbed a spear fashioned from native bark and staggered down the hilly side, the lush grass padding each hurried footstep. There were a few others following his lead, but only a few - the Duranne army was incredibly small, as was the entire population. It was not a particularly impressive race, as even the palace was a simple, one-story mud structure, but it held raw strength that few other races possessed._

_He held his arms out as he slowed down, forcing the dozen behind him to stop, too. There, they all watched with bated breath as a far larger army appeared over a green field's horizon, reeds in the swampy water at their feet swaying peacefully with a sudden, tumultuous wind. But Dodoria and his men were brave, and so after only a moment's hesitation, they charged towards the hundred soldiers awaiting their capture._

_As soon as they came within range, Dodoria used a remarkable force to dig his spear into the ground and use the strength of his limbs to catapult himself into the crowd of enemies, knocking down a good five with his incredible weight. The rest followed suit, and with surprising agility, they each bounced right back on to their feet and plunged those spears into the hearts of the wounded Then they removed them quickly to find a goopy, green blood stuck to the ends of their weapons, only to be driven into the heart of another victim. They continued with this viciously without even considering that, perhaps, this was not an invading army, but only an army come on peaceful terms. Dodoria could only dispel this theory with a gut feeling even before they showed their weapons._

_It had been smart to have trusted this instinct, as before the army could even retaliate, they had taken out thirty of its men. But swords were quickly unsheathed from metallic belts that gleamed in the dying sun's presence, and with this superior weaponry, they took down half of the Duranne army in only a matter of minutes. Dodoria felt his large heart quake inside his chest, and not because of his sorrow for having seen his own men taken down. It was for a fear of his own life, and only for a split second, he considered retreating to leave the rest of his troops to fight the bird-like people. He was the general, after all, and so his life was the most highly regarded. If he was captured, there would be nothing but disorder._

_Of course, before he could even decide to abandon his men or not, his shiny badge on the tunic stretched over his rotund chest called the attention of the enemy forces. One of the larger ones of these bird people had, with a running start, managed to pin him down to the ground with a fierce elbow to his back. But Dodoria wasn't so quick to give up on all hope, and as the man pulled his sword above his body in preparation to dig straight into the plump, pink Duranne's body, Dodoria kicked him off as he rolled over to his back. He grabbed the bird thing by its arms and, with a remarkable strength, cracked its bones by squeezing on them with his massive hands. Then he pushed the thing away, leaving it to fall back with excruciating pain, before he leapt up to his feet. And then with the lack of mercy his people possessed, he grabbed the pathetic man by his throat until he fell into an unconscious state._

_With a bellow of anger and a rekindled spirit with having had his life almost taken away, Dodoria charged once more through the throng after picking up his spear he had dropped during the bird man's assault. He knocked every man in his path with his jagged elbows, so determined that he reach the heart of the group of space ships and find some way to destroy them all, as there seemed to be an endless parade of soldiers joining the fray. And in one unintentional, though unregrettable, push with his scabby elbow, he bashed in the face of the commander of this whole operation, leaving him to lay as just another bird man with his face planted in the soft dirt of the planet, trampled over by his own eager troops._

_But as he was just reaching the apex of this war, one Duranne left standing in thousands, something punctured his lightly covered backside. It was a bullet of some kind, wedging itself in close to his heart. And Dodoria, general of his unforgiving race, found himself close to death once more._

It had been a matter of days after this battle that he had found himself laying in a cell on Planet Frieza 79 with a piece of gauze wrapped around his chest. For some reason or another, they had decided to save his life by surgically removing the bullet, as healing chambers had not circulated their way through the galaxy's system as of yet. But that biting question of just why they had saved him was answered as, after all prisoners were supposed to be asleep, he overheard a pair of guards conversing freely about him through the tiny slot in the titanium door.

The first one with a deeper, huskier voice had called him a real sore in that battle, though he admitted this in almost admiring voices. Nearly a hundred. He had knocked out nearly a hundred single-handedly after the rest of his troop had fallen. And one of those countless faces buried in the lush grass had been the commander, of all people.

Then this first one went on to comment that Frieza, as Dodoria learned was the name of his captor, prized strong fighters regardless of how hideous they were. Or at least he usually did, this one said with a chuckle before wondering just how long he would last during his court hearing. Dodoria sat up straight in his cell to listen, intrigued now by this topic of his own survival, as the other guard with a coarse, high-pitched voice decided that he probably wouldn't get two words out before being blasted into nothingness with just how atrocious he looked. And at this sentiment, the first one agreed and began a conversation about a certain fellow named Zarbon. He had apparently once been a prisoner, just as Dodoria had been, but he had lived under Frieza's wing for far longer than any of his prior men had. And this brought up a certain circulating rumor of that man's sexuality once more.

"Don't want to answer my question?" Frieza's voice broke his musings. "Don't think you're that ugly?" There was still silence as Dodoria carefully shifted his eyes with such minimal movement that he hoped the alien sitting far above him wouldn't notice. Instead of looking at his Lordship, however, he allowed this Zarbon fellow to barely come into his view. He assumed it must have been Zarbon, as it seemed he was Frieza's lapdog. And Dodoria seethed with anger, not replying to Frieza's question as he asked, "Being stubborn?"

He didn't want to reply to Frieza's questions. He didn't seen anything good that would come of it, except for perhaps a chance to live. But he couldn't even focus as he kept his beady gaze upon the peacock to the ruler's left, unable to contain a relentless fury. The peacock wouldn't look at him. This man, this man who he supposed must have been Zarbon, did nothing except shudder with absolute disgust, and all because he believed himself to be so much better. What made fine facial features and green hair better than him?

Dodoria's theory that this was indeed Zarbon was confirmed as Frieza gave up on getting a response from him and instead asked, almost devilishly, "Why won't you look at the poor thing, Zarbon? He's probably just lonely - that's why he won't answer me. Why don't you go down there and... _play with him?"_ This last part of his question came with a laugh that bounced across the surface of the oversized hall, earning a startled sneer on the peacock's face at such an idea.

"P-play with him, sire?" he stuttered, struggling to even comprehend such a horrid task. "You... you want me to _fight that thing?"_

The blood boiled beneath Dodoria's thick skin as he lowered his head once more, refusing to look at the peacock who refused to look at him. But there was no point in Zarbon's clarifying his master's command, as Frieza only replied testily, "Yes, you heard me quite right. And may I remind you that my patience is wearing thin?"

Zarbon gulped, knowing his Highness to be serious in this form of torture. How was he supposed to combat the thing when he refused to even look at it? But he was defeated already, as there was no point in resisting Frieza's wish. So with his eyes shut, his long lashes delicately resting against the top of his thin cheek, he stood up and released a sigh. He pushed the metallic chair back from his own podium looming over the court, and he walked back towards the winding stairs that would lead down to this dreaded creature awaiting a fight.

His cape fluttered about his feet as he descended the staircase, finding himself in front of the beast all too soon. He averted his eyes from the pink figure as he readjusted his arm warmers and tucked a strand of loose, green hair behind his ear. Then he turned his eyes up towards a greedy Frieza's face and announced calmly enough to prevent the disgust in his tone from betraying him, "I'm ready, my Lord."


	3. Molting Bird and Rubber Ball

**I wrote half of this over the course of a few days, forgot to save it, got it deleted, and wrote it all again, far better to my liking, in only a few hours. It's funny how inspiration works.**

**Esplandian: Thanks for really sticking with me through the thick and thin of my story writing. I'm glad that you really like this one - it's different, but it certainly is detailed. Dodoria and Zarbon are two characters that I've never really imagined to like each other, but I suppose they've had forever to get to know one another.  
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**BVPrincess23: Thanks for the kind review, too. Dodoria is pretty nasty, isn't he? I hope this fight satisfies your craving - I've been experimenting with fight scenes for a little while, and so I'm crossing my fingers that this will show that effort.**

**Anyways, enjoy! The last chapter between these two!  
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That seemingly eternal draft forced a small shudder out of the standing reptile, though Dodoria seemed to be faring better. The pink fruit's discomfort in the sneer etched on his flabby features seemed to come more from a pain within, a roaring pain to tear this peacock standing before him from limb to limb. His pink fists were clenched so they turned white, and his feet were just far enough apart to ensure a steady balance. The last thing he wanted to do was start off this fight unprepared, as he was prepared to give everything to pulverize Zarbon.

His opponent didn't notice these warning signs, however. Zarbon was too busy trying to ignore the repulsive creature before him to study his moves or get a feel for the bulky man's actions before their little brawl began. Instead, he allowed his eyes to drift down towards his manicured hands, subconsciously hoping that he wouldn't break a nail. It took his race years to grow out these claws of theirs, and so he rightly treasured them. But it wasn't simply his fear of the big oaf across the hall breaking a nail that made him want to pound in his face - no, Zarbon was certain that any misconfiguration of the creature's face would do all the more to make him better looking than he was before. And then those servants of Frieza's would be able to cart him off and execute him properly, if Frieza didn't feel the compulsion to obliterate him with a Death Beam first.

Zarbon brushed his knuckles against the chest plate of his armor before daring to look up at his Highness, wondering just what was taking so long for him to announce the start of the battle. But he noticed that Frieza was simply peering down on the two of them with a malicious grin on his small face, pulling himself over the railing like an eager child. The reptile noticed his master look towards Dodoria's robust figure and, out of the corner of his eye, allowed himself a glimpse of the hideous alien. He quickly turned away, but not before seeing just how eager his opponent seemed to be to start this match, too. Was it Zarbon alone that found this match humiliating, of all things?

"You want to pound in Zarbon's face?" Frieza spat down at Dodoria, spiting him. But Dodoria's face remained placid, a facade to hide his true emotions, as Frieza continued, "Just think of how easily his pretty face could be shattered. It wouldn't take much, now would it? Just imagine, that tiny nose being the first to go. Then that jaw of his would be knocked away. His eye sockets would ooze with their liquid innards. And all that would be left would be a hole, all with one punch, _General..."_

Though he wasn't the one being addressed, Zarbon couldn't help but glare up at Frieza, his nostrils dilating with a certain fear. Now he realized that he might actually be in danger. Frieza may have been bluffing, only trying to get a reaction out of the fool, but Zarbon didn't get this far in his ranks by believing what was best. He got there by believing in the worst of people, and there was something in Frieza's cruel disposition, that sardonic smirk across his lips as he carefully watched the pink blob, that told Zarbon this might have been more than teasing.

It was very possible, even taking his transformation into account, that Dodoria would be able to overpower him. Zarbon licked his lips nervously, losing confidence with every second as he glanced towards Dodoria again, only to turn away with disgust. It was never like Frieza to send Zarbon to fight an opponent unless he knew they would present a challenge - it was a test that Zarbon only had to endure on occasion, but it helped to motivate him to keep in shape, even as Frieza's lapdog. Though it didn't seem as though this Dodoria fellow would be a terrible challenge, there was something of amusement in Frieza's eye that revealed more than this just being an exercise for the blue reptile.

This was elimination. After this battle, Zarbon assumed, one of them would live. The other would die.

Zarbon felt his own fists clench, his muscles constricting but not being pushed to transformation as of yet. This was unfair, completely unfair. He couldn't look at Dodoria with just how disgusting he was, but if Dodoria was like the majority of the deprived army, he was certain that his opponent wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off of him.

However, Zarbon was very wrong. Dodoria's planet of Duranne had a limited enough female population, but it was not so small as to push him over the edge after only two weeks of captivity. He was focused solely on destroying this peacock, plucking out its feathers one-by-one until he was nothingness. And so, when Frieza had finally bored himself of taunting the pink ball, Dodoria lunged forwards the second Frieza leaned back lazily in his chair and called raspily, "You may begin."

Zarbon had just enough time to dodge a flying fist, twisting his torso backwards so that Dodoria's hand grazed over his face. His heartbeat immediately leapt as the battle commenced, and it took him some time to adjust as Dodoria threw more fists at his face. However, this was more difficult than the blue reptile could imagine - how was he supposed to fight this supposed man when he refused to even look at him?

Dodoria had difficulty landing a punch with his movements that were bulky to Zarbon's in comparison, but he finally managed to slam a strong fist into the taut cheek of his foe. He hit him squarely on the bone, and though there was no shattering, Zarbon couldn't help but wince with pain as he ducked to dodge another throw from Dodoria. He placed his palm against his bruising face, though he still couldn't bring himself to look at his enemy. This Dodoria was worth nothing and would never amount to anything in Zarbon's eyes. He was too hideous to look at, and Zarbon wasn't about to sacrifice his own beauty to transform and finish this fight more quickly.

However, the fight seemed to draw on longer and longer. Though Dodoria couldn't place his knuckles back on Zarbon's face with a certain adeptness the lizard seemed to have developed at dodging, he managed to knock him off of his balance with blows to his chest when possible. And Zarbon found himself breathless after each assault, though he had trouble jumping into the fray himself to take an offensive stance. He couldn't focus properly without looking at his opponent, but he couldn't look at his opponent lest he throw up. He tried focusing on those flying fists, but that was useless when he could have seen the strategy in those dark, bulging eyes.

Zarbon couldn't concentrate properly, and the cackling on Frieza's part came of no help. "It looks like you're as good as finished now, Zarbon!" he hissed, that shrewd smile lingering in the blue reptile's mind after he had glanced up towards his superior. And Frieza seemed to be correct as Dodoria used that momentary distraction to his advantage, unfurling his fingers to grab down on his foe's comparably thin arm. Zarbon shuddered with absolute revulsion at this touch, unable to believe that those hot, sweaty palms were curled around his perfect arm.

And the stinging sensation did nothing to help Zarbon focus. With remarkable strength, Dodoria's grip tightened on his immobilized foe's arm, the skin underneath his grubby fingers paling with the intense pressure. Dodoria grinned smugly at the searing pain flashing across Zarbon's fine features, his white teeth gritted, his tiny nose scrunched up as though this would help to subdue it. But nothing helped, he was forced to realize, as Dodoria lunged forth and took Zarbon's other arm in his other hand. And now with two limbs in his grasp, it seemed that Dodoria was in control.

Frieza's purple lips were parted in awe, having never actually expected this outcome. Much against Zarbon's fears, he hadn't imagined Dodoria actually becoming the victor; he had simply sent Zarbon down to have a little fun, to torture him and remind him exactly who was the tyrant and who was the lapdog. But this - this was too much. Frieza's hollow laughter escaped from his mouth as he clasped a hand to his side, now standing rather fervently over the podium once more._ This was too much!_ That laughter resounded through the courtroom, filling every nook and every cranny with that harsh chuckle.

This was Zarbon's chance, he realized, as he noticed the grip around his arms slacken slightly with Dodoria becoming distracted with Frieza gloating, "This is pathetic, Zarbon! You can do so much better than this, _so much better!"_ His Lordship was right, though there was a price that came with it that the two of them, only those two, knew of. To relinquish his pride or to die? The choice should not have been so difficult, but as Zarbon stood there with a hurt so immense cutting through his body, he was forced to make this difficult decision.

He jerked his head upwards to look Dodoria straight in the face, taking in every detail of the atrocity. The bulge around his eyes, the flab of his cheeks, those wrinkled, little lips that puckered with eternal hate - it was too much. But Dodoria was the one to flinch with surprise as Zarbon scrutinized his face, scrutinized his every move. He took in each spike molded crudely on his flaking scalp and those grotesque ears flat against the side of his head. The excess skin, the warts and the pores. Zarbon took it all in.

Dodoria's grip loosened for only a second longer before he recovered from his shock, but by then, it was a second too late. There was a malice in the peacock's eyes as his golden irises seemed to glow, those pupils dilating. His forehead furrowed deeply as his nose twitched with pure loathing, that scowl on his face as he bared fangs longer than Dodoria had realized he possessed. And to Dodoria's further surprise, Zarbon didn't pull away as he suspected him to when his grip was so lax. No, the man pulled himself closer, close enough for him to observe every crease on that flawless skin and to feel the steamy breath escape his lips and touch his own. And there, with strands of green hair over Zarbon's maniacal features and his face only inches away, he whispered huskily, "I will kill you." Insanity gave a quiver to his voice, driven by the prospect of dying if he failed to complete this mission. "I will kill you." And one last time for emphasis, much more slowly this time, yet with more authority, he repeated, "I will kill you."

Shock enveloped Dodoria as he felt the arms in his loose grasp bulge. He released the man whose own eyes were bulging with a certain lunacy and staggered backwards uncertainly, wondering if he should try to run as he had tried back on his home planet of Duranne. But it was a combination of his pride and a fear that kept him planted in one spot, his expression devoid of emotion as he watched his opponent bend over, the green braid still hanging over his should. And he watched as Zarbon tugged at this braid, bent over so as to hide his own reaction, so as to hide exactly what would come next.

Frieza was howling by now with enjoyment, as he knew what would come. The signs were all there, but he hadn't witnessed such an event in three years, and so his memory was a bit hazy. He leaned forth with great anticipation, clicking away at his green scouter perched faithfully on his face. His tail beat away at the ground beneath him, wagging with excitement he hadn't felt in what felt to be longer than he could remember. This was why he would keep Zarbon. This was why he had survived so long under Frieza's command, with this surprise. The calm and controlled figure was not all but as his body convulsed, each limb shaking so ferociously it seemed they would break.

Zarbon was doing it. He was releasing his pride, releasing all he had, to retain what he could. He was transforming.

It was a quick process, though Zarbon drew it out so as to scare his opponent even more. At this point in the battle, he would have to make the dire sacrifice of looks as it was too far to back out now, and he figured that sacrificing these looks in the slowest, most painful way conceivable would be the best tactic in order to get Dodoria to back off. It succeeded. The well-defined muscles of his arms and legs seemed to grow, collecting sagging sinews and becoming lumps as his fingers and toes also broadened. His small back seemed to pulse with power as he bent over, but slowly and steadily, it gained mass as well to become one, large, disfigured torso. His once-frazzled hair hung limply as his skull became wider, the skin on the nape of his neck becoming mottled with deeper incisions, creases that marred this imperfect skin.

And, at once, he stood up straight. Dodoria's jaw fell with pure disgust at this being before him, taking in this change of face all at once. It wasn't nearly as hysterical, seeming to have regained some bit of dignity even in this beastly form, but this beastly form was too much for even the hideous Dodoria to handle. What had been that tiny, delicate nose had disappeared. What had been tight cheeks on either side of thin lips drooped. What had been small, scrutinizing eyes became large discs with grey bags underneath them, and what had been a clear complexion had seemed to rot within only seconds, many wrinkles and warts in his holey, sagging skin.

Dodoria's chest heaved, having never assumed such a figure to have emerged from a peacock. What further surprised him was when Zarbon flung one of those powerful arms across the area, hitting Dodoria squarely across the chest and knocking the wind from his large lungs. He fell backwards, only just catching himself with one hand as he stared up at the bulky figure hovering above him. But he didn't have much time to contemplate this change, the tables having turned against him. He very quickly rolled over, just dodging a punch to his own hideous face.

Two monstrosities were now pitted against each other, and Frieza's laughter had died down. He watched in silence as his smile faded, eyeing every move carefully. What power they both housed, only needing to rid of their own fears to utilize it. Dodoria had possessed the upper hand when he believed himself to be more powerful, and Zarbon now possessed the upper hand with his belief in his own superior strength. But as Frieza placed his scouter to work, he realize that their power levels were not too far off from one another. It was only the matter of who was ugliest that seemed to be winning this fight.

Zarbon continually dealt blows in Dodoria's direction, though his speed was slightly hindered by this newfound bulk, having never been given the opportunity to adjust to this form with the rarity of the occasion he even used it. However, he finally managed to hit the center of Dodoria's rotund belly, knocking him off of his feet and on to the metallic floor. Dodoria's rubbery body allowed him to quickly hop back up, though, and dodge the next fist aimed towards his head.

What Dodoria hadn't expected was to find Zarbon's massive foot crashing into his face with enormous strength. The blue reptile's shoe was immediately soiled with blood from a broken nose, which Dodoria held gingerly in his clumsy hand, though he continued fighting with the pride that marked his race. A second rush of energy coursed through his veins as he lunged headfirst towards Zarbon, his decaying teeth clenched shut with fury.

But Zarbon now was strong enough to block such an attack, and with his thick arms shielding his chest, he knocked Dodoria back to the floor. This time, however, Dodoria didn't spring back up. Zarbon quickly placed his foot firmly over the blubbery monster's chest, and the two of them caught eye contact, one at the mercy of the other. Zarbon's foot moved up and down as his foe breathed deeply beneath him, waiting. And for the first time that morning, or evening, or night, as Zarbon had long since lost a track of the general time of day, the two of them realized just how little they had conversed. Save for Zarbon's death threats, not a word had been uttered between the two.

Instead of talk, though, Zarbon stooped down and took Dodoria's neck between his scaly hands, the cold of them sending a chill down Dodoria's spine. He held him suspended in air, tightening his grip slowly and determined to choke all of the life out of the pathetic being. He wanted to see the pink ball squeezed of life, writhing in his grasp until his whole pudgy figure went limp. The two stared the other, eye-to-eye, black and beady meeting large and gold. Zarbon bared his white fangs, hissing slightly as the predator within revealed itself, filled with a certain glory.

He was a peacock no longer, Dodoria could only muse, giving him even this thought when he was so close to his own life. He was a reptile, shed of its first layer and now displaying its more hideous form. There was a trickle of blood running down the side of his lip that the self-absorbed man hadn't even noticed, until he noticed Dodoria's eyes dart towards it. Then he felt the warmth and, staring at the bloody mess of goop from Dodoria's broken nose, he allowed his tongue to slither out from between teeth and lick it, a symbol of his triumph.

"Release him."

Zarbon automatically let Dodoria go, the fighting spirit having been lost from the two of them during their silent exchange. He noticed Frieza now standing only a little ways away, having drifted down from his high podium to stop his servant. He allowed his arms to fall back to his side, a rather defenseless Dodoria sitting pitifully on the ground, as Frieza continued, "If you kill him, Zarbon, I will have to kill you."

He only nodded, his muscular neck constricting as he did so. His throat was sore, too sore to respond verbally, and so he allowed Frieza to turn to Dodoria and say, "You will be one of my elite, much as how Zarbon is. You two will work together and finish the small missions too miniscule for my impressive self to get involved in." Dodoria could only blink slowly, as disoriented from the tussle as he was. "You will be at my side always at other times and keep me company." And his face formed a twisted grin as he added, "Zarbon only knows that when I'm bored, I... do foolish things." And the silent Zarbon could only nod once more at this hint to his tendency to kill innocents, unable to absorb that he would have to work with this hideous creature.

Dodoria was similarly dazed, not registering the implied threat in Frieza's words. He was unable to comprehend working alongside the peacock. Or reptile. Or whatever he had proved himself to be. The thing, the monstrous thing standing above him, be his partner? It was preposterous.

"Now clean up, you two. I expect you to be at my side within the next half hour at dinner, or I shall expect to find your heads on my platter." And Frieza walked away, the three flexible toes on each foot tugging away from the ground with every step. The two watched as his Lordship exited the courtroom, at least giving Zarbon that one answer as to what time it was, now able to imagine Planet Frieza 79 in the pitch dark of night with one less prisoner and one more servant.

Zarbon gazed down at Dodoria, contemplating helping him or not. But within seconds, his mind was made up, and he snapped back into his original form. He exited through another door, heading towards the healing chambers, and leaving the pitiful, broken Dodoria on the floor to seethe with a returning anger. Both were hideous, and both were proud.

Oh how they hated one another.


End file.
